


Be Not Forgetful to Entertain Strangers

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Churches & Cathedrals, Family Dinners, Found Families, Having Faith, M/M, Prayer, Religion, Self-Reflection, faith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 09:12:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Crowley prays. And sometimes he goes to small churches. He never expected to be noticed.





	Be Not Forgetful to Entertain Strangers

Crowley prays like a child. Full of questions and calls for intercession. He’s fairly certain there’s nobody listening, especially since the whole averted apocalypse thing. But then again, maybe She is.

Aziraphale generally doesn’t pray. On the rare occasion he does, he prays like he’s trying to ring up his bosses boss and avoid the secretary He’s seen what people and angels do in Her name. He hasn’t truly felt Her presence since Eden. He talks a good game about ineffability, but in his heart, he doubts.

Neither one of them knows this fact about the other. 

**

Crowley slipped into the back of the church. This isn’t one of those gothic jobs full of spires and stained glass. This one could pass for an office park, which it is five days a week. The chairs are the foldable metal kind, temporary, as is the pulpit and the cross at the front. 

Crowley prefers these anyway. The ground is less consecrated, though he can still feel the pain in his feet, reminding him of what he was and can no longer be. Perhaps it’s a bit of self-flagellation. He stands in the back, always slipping in after service has begun, always slipping it out before it ends. 

He’s pretty sure he’d get it from both sides if they knew he was here. 

The Children’s message is about Noah’s ark and he wistfully thinks of the unicorns, ignores the dark memories of terror as people realized the flood was on them. The cries of a child. He’d fled the area and not come back for almost two hundred years. 

How could She do it? How could she allow so much suffering, yesterday and today?

He’d always asked too many questions. It was part of why he’d been cast out after all. His original sin. 

The sermon was about acceptance and grace. Crowley listened as he always did, watching the humans, smiling at a baby that peered over his mother’s shoulder, shifting from foot to foot to try and alleviate some of the pain.

As the pastor started wrapping up Crowley knew it was time to go. He turned on his heel and quietly crept out the back. But before he could exit the building completely a woman stood in his way. 

She crossed her arms and remained unmoving, but smiled brightly. “Morning,” she said politely. 

Crowley knew he had no good excuse for being here. “Hi,” he said, moving to step around her. 

She blocked his way. “You’ve been here every Sunday for the last two months.”

Had it been that long already? Probably time to find a new congregation. “Have I?” He said nonchalantly. 

She pulled out a piece of paper and offered it to him. “Need to talk or anything here’s my number. My wife and I have a dinner on Tuesday night, if you’d like to come.”

No human would knowingly invite a demon to dinner. He thought about giving her a taste of his true form, but resisted. “Sure,” he said, stuffing the paper in his pocket. 

She smiled and stepped aside. “Bring a friend if you like. I’m Andrea.”

“Crowley,” he said walking past her and wiggling his toes as his feet cooled on the street. 

He caused two malfunctioning stop lights on his way back to his flat. Demon, after all, had to keep things up even if he wasn’t exactly sending memos back to head office. 

The rest of his day was spent moping about his flat. Monday he looked at the paper and stuffed it back in his pocket, then tempted a secretary into mass emailing the whole company each other’s salaries. 

Tuesday morning he slouched into the bookshop. The door was locked but that never applied to him. Aziraphale was curled up in his chair with a book, cocoa gone cold by his elbow. Crowley took a seat. While he waited for Aziraphale to notice his presence he warmed the cocoa, topped it off and added some marshmallows. 

Eventually, Aziraphale sat back and removed his reading glasses. “Oh. Crowley. When did you get here?” He asked, reaching for his mug. 

“Not long,” Crowley lied. “Busy tonight?”

“Not that I can think of. Why?”

Crowley hesitated. “I got invited to dinner. With some church folks…”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “And you want me there to cancel out your tempting?”

Crowley sighed and looked away, fidgeting with his hands. “She suggested I bring a friend,” he mumbled. 

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, sounding a bit confused. “Well, if you want me to come, certainly.”

Crowley lurched to his feet. “Pick you up at 5:30,” he said, heading for the door before Aziraphale could ask more questions.

Of course, that did nothing to stop Aziraphale from asking almost as soon as he got in the car. Crowley had pulled up promptly at 5:30 and, to his surprise, Aziraphale was ready and waiting. He’d even dressed down a bit, wearing a jumper in his usual cream instead of his suit.

“Thought it might make a better impression,” he muttered to Crowley’s surprised look. “How do you know these people?”

"Church people, like I said," said Crowley, pulling into traffic.

“Well, then, how do you know church people?”

“Lots of people go to church,” said Crowley, fiddling with the music. He was well aware of Aziraphale watching him. The angel might occasionally be naive and gullible, but he often saw true things in Crowley. He braced himself for Aziraphale to ask the most logical followup question, but, mercifully, he kept his silence.

Crowley threw a quick prayer at God that this whole evening wouldn’t go completely to shit.

They pulled up to a small house a short time later. It was unremarkable and ordinary. Crowley was glad for Aziraphale’s presence, because otherwise he might well have decided this was a terrible idea and headed home.

Instead, Andrea stepped outside and waved at him before he could chicken out. 

Right. He’d walked into heaven and not punched Gabriel in his stupid, smug mouth. Surely, he could handle a dinner party.

Aziraphale was out of the car first. Crowley hurried to catch up. Andrea gave a knowing smile as they approached together. “Crowley, welcome, and your friend is…”

“Aziraphale,” the angel said, bowing slightly to her. She didn’t even blink at the unusual name, instead getting the door and gesturing them inside.

“Why did you give her that name?” Crowley asked quietly as they stepped inside.

“Well, she didn’t call you Anthony,” said Aziraphale with a shrug.

Andrea led them through the front room and into a warm kitchen. Two other women and a teenage boy were finishing dinner preparations. An anxious woman sat at the table, nursing a soft drink. Ah, she was worried about being misgendered by strangers. Well, easy enough to put her mind at ease.

“Evening, miss,” said Crowley.

She smiled with relief. “Nancy,” she said. “You must be the mysterious Crowley.”

Aziraphale was watching him. Crowley could feel the raised eyebrow. “I don’t know how mysterious,” he said. “This is my friend, Aziraphale.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” said Nancy, scooting over a bit to make room.

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale, taking the offered seat.

Andrea smiled at them and offered a choice of drinks. Aziraphale took a small glass of wine, Crowley accepted a soft drink.

“Almost ready,” said one of the other women, turning and wiping her hands on her apron. She leaned over and kissed Andrea’s cheek. “I’m Donna.” She gestured at the two that had been working beside her. “This is Beth and Rob, our neighbors.”

“Didn’t want to interrupt you while you were working,” said Andrea.

“Smart woman,” teased Donna. “Must be why I married you.”

“One of the reasons, anyway.”

Even Crowley could feel the affection between them. Under the table he squeezed Aziraphale's hand, though he wouldn’t have admitted it.

The food was quickly brought to the table. Everyone settled in. Beth reached for the hands on either side of her. “Mind if I say grace?”

Crowley could hardly say no and Aziraphale certainly wouldn’t. So he held Aziraphale and Rob’s hands and bowed his head with the rest of them. He braced himself for some sort of holy pain, but nothing happened. The prayer finished, hands were dropped and the food was dished out.

They made small talk over dinner. Crowley was relieved that they didn’t ask him about church, or God, or anything else along those lines. They simply did their best to make him and Aziraphale comfortable.

“Quite delicious,” said Aziraphale, taking a second helping of the green beans, buttered and sauteed with something savory.

“Thank you,” said Donna. “Old family recipe.”

Crowley listened to the ebb and flow of conversation, not saying much himself, internally amused by Aziraphale’s chit chat. Then again he did have several thousand years of dinner party experience. 

Gradually dinner wound down. Nancy excused herself from the table and made her way out the back door. 

Something seemed amiss. Crowley waited a few minutes, then followed her outside.

She was leaning against the back of the house having a smoke. She looked up and offered him one, which he accepted.

“You never look comfortable in church,” she said. “I get it.”

“I’m surprised anyone noticed me, to be honest,” said Crowley.

“Donna saw you first. She’s good at that. Noticing folks.”

“Then sends Andrea out to collect the flock,” said Crowley. “And you’re right, I’m not.”

Nancy nodded and adjusted her dress. “My parents kicked me out a couple months ago. Yours too?”

Crowley managed not to bitterly laugh. “Something like that. But a long time ago.”

“Yeah, you and your Mister are older. Bet you’ve seen a lot of things.” Nancy took a long drag.

“You’ve no idea,” said Crowley. He wanted to tell her of other times. Of people like herself he’d known in ages past. Of periods when nobody batted an eye. How he’d presented female from time to time himself. “Things are getting better, though. Always two steps forward and one back.”

“Will I see you on Sunday?” she asked, putting out the last of her cigarette and flicking it into the bin.

Crowley hesitated. “Probably,” he said.

“Good.” She headed back inside, leaving Crowley to look moodily into the garden and finish his own.

By the time he returned inside Aziraphale had found the piano and was entertaining them with musical numbers. Crowley managed not to roll his eyes, and instead shook his head as he made his way over. He waited until Aziraphale finished, then leaned in close to him. “We should go, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled and nodded. He turned and kissed Andrea’s hand. “Thank you for a delightful evening.”

“We do this every Tuesday,” said Andrea. “Come back whenever you like.”

Donna hugged Aziraphale and patted Crowley on the arm, for which he was grateful.

Nancy squeezed Crowley’s hand. “Thank you,” she told him. “Hope to see you on Sunday.”

Crowley nodded and ushered Aziraphale out and into the car.

“Well, that was lovely,” said Aziraphale as he settled in.

“I suppose so,” said Crowley, still wondering if he should go back to that church or find a new one.

“How long have you been going to their church?” he asked.

“Two months,” said Crowley, eyes on the road, suddenly very much not wanting to have this conversation. At least not sober.

“Can I come with you on Sunday? I haven’t been to church since... Well, I don’t know if you’d count 1941.”

“Don’t know if you’d like it,” said Crowley. “It’s small. Office block, temporary.”

“Why did you start going? And doesn’t it still hurt?”

Crowley was quiet, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “It always hurts, angel. Part of the whole demon thing. And it was small and quiet and I didn’t think anyone noticed me going in and out.”

Aziraphale reached over and touched his shoulder. Crowley wasn’t sure if he was trying to offer comfort or simply remind him he wasn’t alone.

“Sure,” Crowley said at last. “I’ll pick you up.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, that soft beatific grin he had when he was particularly pleased with something. Crowley simply kept his eyes on the road, feeling that perhaps something was shifting between them. Something good and full of promise.

Maybe She hadn’t abandoned them after all.

_“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” Hebrews 13:2 KJV_

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to lmirandas and Beltainefaerie for reading along. And Bel for the beta.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr and twitter at merindab
> 
> Somewhat inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/hvrbringer/status/1148039008158543873/photo/1) post


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